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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147345">first impressions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors'>whalersandsailors</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Hero Worship, M/M, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:00:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George wants to thank Commander Fitzjames.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Commander James Fitzjames &amp; Lt George Hodgson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>first impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac/gifts">Drac</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for the prompt 'tongue-tied'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Excitement and trepidation alike mix inside George the moment he steps aboard Her Majesty’s Ship <em>Terror. </em>Their expedition’s departure North looms ever nearer, and George feels as giddy as a boy awaiting holiday.</p>
<p>Today, he overlooks the transfer of provisions with Mr Hornsby.</p>
<p>The captain is on deck today as well, talking (or rather, half listening with the occasional nod) to Sir John and Commander Fitzjames. Every few seconds, George reminds himself to stop glancing their way and focus on the task at hand, no matter how much he longs for a chance to speak with <em>Erebus</em>’s officers<em>.</em> His own captain is a bit of an enigma and has an unnerving way of staring straight through George. While his fellow Edward Little has succeeded more at communicating with Captain Crozier, George always feels putout when he goes through the motions of giving his reports or asking questions about future officers (that one, George has noticed in particular, rankles the captain, and thus he has learned to avoid the subject).</p>
<p>A loud clattering of glass drags George from his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Careful with that!” He hurries to the men carrying the crates of spirits to the lower deck. He feels eyes on the back of his head, and he self-consciously amends with a smile, “We’ll have time plenty for bottles to break during storms at sea. Let’s not start prematurely.”</p>
<p>He straightens in time to dodge Captain Crozier stomping past him. He hurriedly tugs on the front of his cap in a salute, but Crozier neither notices nor seems to care. He is halfway down the gangplank by the time George remembers to breathe. Sir John is kind enough to give him a smile and nod as he walks by at a more reasonable pace, and George is significantly less flustered as he salutes him.</p>
<p>Commander Fitzjames is last in the line of men, and George straightens when he stops before him.</p>
<p>“Commander,” George greets, with the customary salute to him as well.</p>
<p>“How have you been adjusting, Lieutenant?” Fitzjames asks — as much at ease with himself as George feels tongue-tied and flat-footed around him.</p>
<p>“Quite well, sir, thank you.”</p>
<p>More men carry crates onto the ship beside them, and when one of the workers’ grip slips, George frets <em>easy!</em> at him. But Fitzjames is quick on his feet. He grabs the edge of the box before it lands on the deck and shatters the bottles.</p>
<p>George hurries to take the other side of the crate, shooing aside the flustered worker. In the back of his mind, George feels sorry that he snapped. The lad looks not a day above fifteen, with more blemishes than beard marking his youthful face.</p>
<p>His attention snaps back to the matter at hand when Fitzjames removes his hat, tossing it onto a  coil of rope.</p>
<p>“Where to now, lieutenant?”</p>
<p>Red-faced, George gestures with his head. “We’re stacking these near the sickbay. The boys will sort and take them to the storerooms later.”</p>
<p>“Very well. Lead on.”</p>
<p>The crate is hardly heavy enough to require both of them, but George is grateful to have a second pair of eyes to direct him as he descends the ladder, maneuvering around columns and doors. Once the crate is stacked with the others, he thanks Fitzjames with a breathless smile.</p>
<p>“It’s no trouble at all,” Fitzjames insist, as they walk back toward the upper deck. “Don’t wear yourself out too much. We’ll need all your energy for the voyage ahead.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>At the base of the ladder, George fidgets with the hem of his jacket before he blunders on, lest he not find have another chance.</p>
<p>“I wanted to thank you, sir,” he says, his voice much more shrill than he would like. He pauses, clearing his throat; “for the assignment.” He wavers, struggling to hold Fitzjames’s gaze who suddenly looks dreadfully thoughtful. “I hope to live up to your expectations.”</p>
<p>Fitzjames’s smile is still present, albeit smaller. His head tilts as he regards George in silence for a couple seconds before he claps his hand onto George’s shoulder and squeezes.</p>
<p>“I don’t see any reason why not, lieutenant. Your reputation precedes you. You proved yourself worthy in China and will continue to do so here. I’ve no doubt of that.”</p>
<p>George is stunned by the man’s praise. He only remembers to shut his mouth once he has clasped his hands tightly before himself.</p>
<p>“I…thank you, sir.”</p>
<p>Fitzjames pats his shoulder again, before he sets one foot on the ladder.</p>
<p>“Please, we’re nearly the same age. Call me James.” He lowers his head with a merry twinkle in his eye. “In the proper company, of course. Can’t go with neglecting niceties and rank everywhere we go, yes?”</p>
<p>Lightness floods George, and he returns the commander’s wide grin.</p>
<p>“Of course not, sir,” he says as he nimbly climbs the ladder behind him.</p>
<p>On deck, George skips a few steps ahead to retrieve Fitzjames’s cap for him. He thanks George with a brilliant smile, and George feels his stomach flip.</p>
<p>They split, one to the left, one to the right, as more workers clumsily carry crates down into the ship. Fitzjames catches George’s eyes over the heads of the men. He fixes his cap on his head and winks.</p>
<p>“Take care of yourself, George,” he calls as he climbs down the gangplank. “We’ll be seeing more of each other in the weeks to come.”</p>
<p>George raises a hand to wave him off, unsure if he should feel silly for his shyness or foolish for his chumminess. He walks away from Mr Hornsby and the others, propping his arms on the railing.</p>
<p>“’Call me James,’” he repeats quietly to himself, unable to keep a grin splitting wide on his face.</p>
<p>He feels overly warm and blames the unseasonably mild spring day.</p>
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